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middle age

Since about February of this year, I’ve been on what can be termed a “carbohydrate-restricted” diet. I’m sorry, I mean, don’t call it a “diet”–it’s a lifestyle. This lifestyle has been great for my waistline–I’ve lost close to 40lbs–but hasn’t improved my sleep apnea.

Not one bit. I thought by losing weight, I would improve my nighttime breathing. Well, not so much. In fact, if anything, the apnea has gotten worse.

Not only that, though I’ve lost weight, my total serum cholesterol is 212, and my LDL is 143. Not such good numbers.

This, despite my “lifestyle,” and moderate exercise. Guess it’s all in the genes, or something.

Thanks, mom and dad! Thanks a lot.

Anyway, I thought I could get a handle on this without any additional doctor visits, etc. But it’s not looking that way. (You in the peanut gallery: shut up! I know full well it sucks to be middle aged). So, it looks like another sleep study is in order, and with a recurrent staph infection in my left nostril, a visit to the otolaryngologist (otherwise, like Treebeard, known as an ENT) as well. I hate going to the doctor!

All of this added to what my wife is going through health-wise: diabetes, adhesive capsulitis (“frozen shoulder”–for which she has been enduring painful physical therapy thrice-weekly for sometime now), and various other health issues as well.

Added to which, our son has had some issues with bullies at school.

All of which is to say that this introvert’s heart is on overload. Life is too much right now. So much so, that I presently don’t really care about my healthy regimen. I mean: eat right, exercise daily, die anyway, right? So I may as well eat what I enjoy.

Awesome headspace to be in, right? Can I get an “Amen?”

As you can probably guess–if you read yesterday’s post–I’ve been somewhat surly and withdrawn lately. If you don’t believe me, just ask my wife. 😉

I’m sorry if this sounds like a pity party; that’s not why I’m sharing. I’m just trying to be real with you.

Insofar as I know, I ain’t dyin’, but I feel–chronically–only about half alive. I guess what I’m saying is: I could use your prayers.

Good morning! Today I have the privilege of guest posting for Leanne Shirtliffe as a part of her “Whiteboard Wednesday” series.

Here’s an excerpt:

“I’m a dad. Have been for a little over thirteen years now. Indeed, I was in my twenties when my parenting odyssey began, and it wasn’t until I was thirty seven that God decided to throw my wife and I a curveball. Or drop a surprise bomb (in the form of a little girl) in our laps.

You, who have no place being there, have taken up residence in my wife’s shoulder. You were not invited in, and yet unlike the vampires of lore, you pushed your way in. What gives? If I could rebuke you like those TV preachers say, I so would.

You have made her shout, cry, scream, plead, beg, cajole, for some kind, for any kind, of relief.

You have made her long for the pangs of childbirth! Because at least childbirth has an end. It’s a known commodity. You, Calcific Bursitis, are a parasite–hijacking nerve fibers, forestalling the use of an arm, singing a song of woe…

One that goes to 11! And not in a good way.

But your day is coming. It may not be soon enough–as soon as we’d like it–but it’s coming!

For someday, as with all suffering, you will have to give way:

“And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Rev. 21:3-4, ESV).

In the meantime, I hate you, Calcific Bursitis, and all that you do.

While you make us hurt now, these sufferings are not worthy to be compared to the glory that shall be.